


i know, michael

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (its gerry but hes a no touchy touchy gay so its just mentioned in passing), Crossdressing Kink, Enthusiastic Consent, FUCK THE TIMELINE ALL MY HOMIES HATE THE CANON TIMELINE, Feminization, M/M, Praise Kink, Trans Male Character, aka i love calling people good and im projecting that onto gerry, anyways gerry and michael worked together in the archives and they were in Love get out of my face, being goth is sexy actually, femboy michael shelley . that is all, gerry just likes pretty boys in skirts and honestly who can blame him, handjobs, ok basically everything abt gerry in this fic is projection from the author, ok time for real tags, service top gerard keay, this is just shameless michaelgerry smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: if gerry's learned anything during his time working with gertrude, it's more important to have nerves of steel than anything else. but, michael shelley... well.do you ever meet a guy who just looks like he wants you to stomp on him with your heels?
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 102
Collections: Anonymous





	i know, michael

**Author's Note:**

> HI im posting this anonymously bc i dont want ppl to b connecting it back to my other works BUT i love this fic sm i rlly do n i think u guys might too sooooooo femboy michael shelley anyone? 
> 
> i know its all in lowercase i didnt want to edit it lol

if gerry's learned anything during his time working with gertrude, it's more important to have nerves of steel than anything else. but, michael shelley... well.

do you ever meet a guy who just looks like he wants you to stomp on him with your heels?

probably, unless you, too, are a lanky goth who wears boots the size of your head to work every day because they cost more than your entire goddamn security deposit on your flat, likely not! but gerard keay is, and he has met guys like this, and he apparently continues to. he'd met another such lad in university, where gerry'd been cheery as ever (though with different boots), and found himself rooming with a sparrowlike little freshman in a sweater vest and corduroys who clearly felt very pleased to be talking to him. things had lead to one another and eventually, gerry'd fallen into bed with him like he had with the girls in high school he'd met who fancied the piercings, and something had just clicked and felt right and he hadn't really ever gone back. he sort of just... drifted, like that, all the way through university, letting himself catch the eye of pretty people and if they were patient enough with him, if they were right and gerry really thought they wanted him, was really sure, he'd give them what he knew they were after and he'd get the roiling satisfaction of knowing he's what someone _wants_. 

so no, it isn't that gerry is unused to the feelings of eyes on him whenever he puts his jet-black hair back with an elastic from around his wrist (though god knows the michael kid has enough hair of his own) to keep the long pieces out of his eyes, or when he comes in wearing more spikes on him than could fit on a porcupine, or even when he knows michael is watching him, fingers white on his teacup as he huddles in a corner, as gerry swans through the office in his usual, clunky, intimidating way. but he certainly isn't used to isn't coming from- isn't used to _period_ \- someone as cute as michael shelley. he's barely even talked to the man yet, he's just been hired, but gerry spends.. a bit too much time watching michael's clever fingers jab at the half a century old typewriter gertrude has him using and intermittently fly up to push the aviator glasses he wears back up his thin, sloping nose. his skin is fair and dotted with perfectly round freckles, not dusted as much as... placed. he's got a mole beneath his lip, and... the longest eyelashes gerry's ever seen. they seem to catch the light with how blonde they are, and reflect it back into his eyes: one blue, and one green. gerry often catches himself wondering if they have anything to do with how he's found his way to the institute- especially because gerry _swears_ they switch colors every once in a while. he might have... a bit of a crush, to say the least, and the way he knows michael's eyes track him as he takes his sweet time going outside to take a smoke break does nothing to help matters, he thinks bitterly. he fishes the box out of his pocket and begins feeling for his lighter when he realizes it isn't there- damn, he realizes, he must have left it at his desk, but right as he turns to go back inside and fetch it he comes nose-to-nose with a very frightened michael shelley.

"oh, christ, mate, don't scare me like that," he starts, but seeing how michael stares at him with genuine shock in his eyes makes him melt a little and he stops. he steps back, letting the shorter man come down off the stairs and starts taking out a cigarette in the mind to offer him one. "you got a lighter?" 

michael's eyes widen impossibly more and he nods his head emphatically, before stammering out an "ah, well, yes, i... i suppose i just noticed you left yours on your desk, and i thought you might want it, you see, so i was- i thought i might bring it out to you." 

gerry's eyebrow raises involuntarily and he smirks in a way that michael noticeably gulps at. my lord, is he always this nervous, or is this the thing some people seem to have about goths? not the time to ask. thank the pretty boy who fetched you the lighter you forgot, you fool, his homosexual smoker brain thinks desperately. "ta," his very uncooperative mouth says, and he takes the lighter out of michael's only-slightly-trembling hands to light the cigarette already dangling at his lips. "..would you like one?" 

"oh, no, i don't- i don't smoke." michael replies hastily, though he looks positively thrilled to even be asked any question at all. gerry gets the feeling he doesn't get that very often. 

"good lad," he says after he has already blown out an excessively large cloud up into the air. he sighs at the feeling he gets after the stress of finishing up gertrude's errands all day. his legs are.. sort of killing him from all the stairs, but smoking takes the edge off. "smoking kills, and all that."

michael giggles and it's beautiful and gerry pushes down the giddy feeling that the sound puts in his stomach. "working here will do that, too," he points out, and he hops up to sit on the cement walls surrounding the back of the magnus institute. 

"only if you're lucky," gerry retorts, and he turns around to face michael from his now even shorter stature on the wall, his head now at gerry's chest. seems most of michael's height is in his legs. not that gerry noticed. "if you don't smoke, why're you joining me for one?" 

michael's eyes widen again and he looks terrified that he's fucked up; "oh, i'm sorry, i can go, i-"

"no, no, i just- look." gerry cards a hand through his hair before offering it to michael, one extended as the other holds his slowly smoldering cigarette. "my name's gerry keay. you're michael, right? michael shelley?"

michael looks completely dumbfounded at both what to do with the hand and the fact gerry knows his name, but he ignores this and gives his hand to shake as he says faintly, "i thought mrs. robinson called you gerard."

he laughs a little, exhaling curls of smoke as he does. "well, that's gertrude. you can call me gerry. unless you'd rather gerard, though i don't much care for it.." 

"no, no, i- yes, hello, gerry, i- i'm michael." 

"i know." gerry leans back, taking a long drag as he scans michael up and down with nonchalant consideration. "hello, michael." 

there's a very thick silence, and michael desperately tries to think of something to say. he lands on, "i like your shoes," and gerry's wry little smile makes him add, "what're you smiling at?" 

"man, i see you staring at me and my boots every day. got a thing about goths, yeah?"

funny, that, michael thinks almost fervently before he yelps out a "what?!" and he shakes his head vehemently. "no, no, no, it's- i don't- they're just very... striking, that's all, and i-"

gerry shuts him up with a quick wink and taps ash off his cigarette. "im joking, michael. thank you very much. i quite like your cardigan." 

michael smiles and clutches absently at his secondhand cream cardigan embroidered with a crest of some university or other as he tries to get out, "oh, wow, thank you! i just- you know, you dress so- and i-"

gerry laughs to himself again and flicks the butt of the filter to the ground, grinding it under the rubber-platform sole of his boot before he offers a hand to help michael down. "you're rather adorable, do you know that?"

the hand is taken before michael can even think enough to squeak, "pardon?", and he hops off the wall on unsteady legs before he smooths off his rumpled turtleneck and looks up at gerry owlishly, barely registering what's being said. 

gerry grins wolfishly but before he can speak, the door swings open and gertrude's unimpressed form pokes out to fix her two assistants with a withering stare. 

"gerard."

"gertrude."

"i certainly hope you aren't trying to corrupt your fellow assistant." michael's cheeks flush a blotchy red and gerry gets the funniest idea that micheal certainly wouldn't mind that at all.

"wouldn't dream of it. just... getting in a chat between coworkers." he looks sideways at michael when he says this, who looks utterly readily to collapse. 

gertrude's lips purse and she raises an eyebrow, but she says nothing. "quite. michael?" 

"yes, mrs. robinson?" he looks up at her hopefully, and her airy sniff tells gerry it's not unnoticed.

"is gerard minding his manners?"

michael giggles again, the sound just as lovely as it was the first time, and he simply nods with a sincere smile stretched across his face as he looks at his shoes. if gerry was less of a very cool, composed person, he might have felt his heart skip worryingly in his chest at the expression. "yes. he's being quite the gentleman, mrs. robinson." 

her eyebrow cocks impossibly higher, but she bites her tongue. "i see. well, don't be too long." she casts one last look at the two, gerry's tall, sharp frame next to michael's petit, delicate one, and then the door is closed with a swift click.

gerry rounds on the shorter man with a very interested expression. "a gentleman, huh?" 

michael runs his fingers through his curly, twisting hair and he hides his burning face. "shut up." 

gerry watches him idly, and lights another cigarette as he considers the man in front of him again.

he's not quite _girly_ , not exactly, but he's small and spindly and looks light as anything in the jumpers and vests he drowns in, and when he's forced to shed them his waist looks so, so small through his shirts- small enough for gerry to wrap his hands around, he thinks, and oh, that idea is very interesting. at any rate, he's captivating, and the whole innocent schoolboy look is most definitely doing it for him. michael'd once come in wearing a thin, silky bow at his throat over the collared shirt and jumper, an honest to god _bow_ , and suffice it to say gerry had very much appreciated that surprise as he walked into the archives that particular day.

michael finally tucks his hair behind his ear with a thin, anxious hand and gerry taps a bit of ash from the cigarette again, dropping it and tamping it out lightly with the toe of his left boot. "d'you like cats, michael?"

"why, yes, i do." michael's voice is surprised, and he looks at gerry curiously. "why do you ask?" 

"well, gertrude is planning to go swanning off on her own business for the next few weeks starting monday, and i'll be... cat sitting for her, i guess. i have an old lady named sally, and im taking prince paws to meet her at mine-" 

"wait a moment, prince paws?"

"gertrude's cat," he says gravely. "she loves that thing like a son." he looks up at michael conspiratorially, eyes dancing. "i thought you two ought to meet, compare notes." 

michael sputters and shoves gerry back, crossing his arms indignantly as he glares at gerry, who's already laughing. "excuse me?!"

smiling, gerry gestures to the door, reaching to open it behind michael's back. "after you, then?"

"right." michael's smile when he catches his eye as sweet as anything, and gerry feels instantly warmer for it. "cheers."

"of course, michael." 

\----

michael's face that friday when gerry walks in wearing his utilikilt over two pairs of tights, holey black over stripes and his regular boots, is priceless as anything, too. he looks up at gerry to find he's already caught him staring, and he looks less embarrassed than excited. "i- your skirt, it's-" 

"it's a kilt."

"yes, right, it's lovely! the buckles, and straps, just..." he looks away, and when he looks back gerry is still staring at him. 

"thank you. i do have skirts, though, from high school and a few exes. i don't think i would of pull off the length, though." 

"oh, no, i think you would," comes the high pitched reply, and michael clears his throat before asking curiously, "... you kept your ex-girlfriend's skirts?"

"i didn't say that." gerry's gaze is neutral, but he glances at michael's face as the gears turn and he revels in the way michael's brain clicks in overtime to do the long-suffering calculations all gay people must do to clock each other.

"you'd look quite good in one of them, actually," gerry muses absentmindedly, and michael barely manages out an 'oh?' "i dated this bassist in a riot grrl band and they loved tartan uniform skirts. they left one behind, i suppose, and i still have it but it's much too short for me." he worries at the ring on his lower lip as he eyes michael. "i think it'd fit you nicely."

michael clears his throat, sitting down abruptly in his office chair and saying firmly, "right, well. i have. files to translate, and all that. you know." he adds shyly, and gerry's knowing grin makes him very nervous.

"i know, michael."

\----

when gerry comes in the next week and plops a giftbag on his desk, michael can't even bring himself to be surprised. he looks up to gerry's smug face, and down to the bag again. 

"i brought you something."

"i can see that."

"will you humor me and try it on?" 

michael's eyebrows disappear into his hair at that, and gerry pouts at him. "please? i brought it all the way here, and it's not like i can wear it. think of it as a... welcome to the team gift."

michael's face is almost totally red, and he tries to protest. "gertrude-" 

"-isn't here," gerry says smoothly. "she's halfway to edinburgh. elias is the only one here, and god knows he's not paying attention." 

michael silently agrees, and acquiesces the tiniest bit. "well..." 

"come on! there's a little room in the storage closet where no one else can see, gertrude sleeps in it when she's staying late in the archives. it's got a cot and all that." he turns uncharacteristically emphatic eyes on michael. "please?" 

"god, all right, you got me," is all he has to say, and gerry snatches up the bag and michael's wrist before whisking him back to the archives the storage closet he'd specifically begged elias not to keep an eye on today. michael's giggling as he walks in, and he absently toys with his belt as he looks up at gerry. "all right, so. is there a bathroom, or?" 

"nah, i'll just step out for a moment." he does, and michael leaves the door open just a sliver before he starts unzipping his slacks. he picks up the bag as he steps out of them, and he feels a shiver go up his spine. he's changing into a skirt, at work, and he's basically doing it in front of a dreadfully attractive young man who he has been very hornily terrified of since he'd started working at the institute. no, he thinks as he pulls out the skirt and sees the white fabric underneath it, correction: he's changing into a skirt and stockings. right. they look new, certainly clean, and he feels the shiver run back down. well, lovely. at least his legs won't be cold, right?

he wastes no time tucking his shirt into the top of the skirt, zipping it up and smoothing his jumper back down over the top. he tries to ignore how close it comes to covering the skirt's hem. he rolls the stockings up, finding they come right up to the middle of this thighs, and thank god they're stretchy so they don't sag down like he was sure they would. he knocks hesitantly on the door for gerry.

"there's no mirror, so i guess you just have to tell me how i look," he says, and gerry opens the door with the cigarette he'd lit while he's waiting in the hallway burning merrily between his fingers. his eyes widen reflexively as he assesses his handiwork, and he crushes the butt against the doorframe before he lets it tumble to the ground as he steps forward. his movement forces michael backwards, and the backs of his thighs bump the small chest of file drawers as he's crowded into the tiny space. gerry's hands shoot out to steady him and he looks unblinkingly at the shorter man, teeth back to worrying his lipring.

"i do hope you plan to pick that up." 

"of course." 

the two stare at eachother for a time, gerry tall and dark and exuding a very keen sense of predation as he looks down on the blond he's currently got trapped in between the cabinet and himself, and before michael knows what's happening gerry's whispering in his ear.

"you look so pretty, michael." the words make michael whimper, and he shifts his thighs together under the skirt. he's suddenly aware of just how leggy he really is, and how this skirt is very much not long enough to pass gertrude's admittedly tame dresscode. gerry, apparently, notices this too, and he's slotting a knee between michael's thighs before he can think about it. "don't you think so?"

michael can't move, can't do anything except stare hopelessly up at gerry who looks much too calm, given the situation he's in. "b-beg your pardon?"

without warning, gerry lifts and presses his knee up to what michael's desperately got covered with his overlarge jumper. michael can't help the way he bears down and looks frantically up at gerry, who's just. watching. enjoying seeing michael so flustered. "don't you think you're pretty, i said?" he repeats, and his hands are moving from forearm to waist so that he's got hands on either side of michael's hips like he's imagined so. so many times. he's surprised by how softly it curves, and he grips even tighter with hot hands at the feeling it dredges up in his chest. "i think you look quite," gerry says, and on 'quite' he coaxes michael's hips down to meet his waiting knee, "quite pretty."

"g-gerry, i-"

"if you want me to stop, ill stop." his eyes are earnest, even while he sucks in a heavy breath, even as he's clearly undressing michael with his eyes. "but seriously... fuck, michael, just.. fuck." 

michael shakes his head exaggeratedly, "no, no, don't, please, its.." he buries his head in gerry's shoulder as he makes a sharp dip with his hips and he gasps out, "it's perfectly all right, really, i promise." gerry only then feels the subtle hardness against his knee, and he feels himself almost barrel over with the realization of what's happening. woah, okay, pretty boy grinding on our knee in a skirt we gave him, in our place of fucking work, lads. what do we do.

apparently the answer is gather michael up in his arms as quickly as possible before he lays down on the cot and arranges michael on top of him, thighs straddling gerry's waist. "i knew you'd say yes," gerry practically purrs, "you've been radiating all sorts of 'fuck me' since you saw me, huh? it was pretty hard to miss."

"mmn," michael hums nervously as he ruts down on gerry's stomach, face the color of the skirt, "can't help it, i'm sorry..."

"don't apologize, sweetheart. always nice to know someone's a fan." he takes a hand off michael's hip to pinch at his inner thigh. "'specially someone as cute as you." 

michael can't help the way the words and gerry's cold fingers make his legs open farther apart as he whines lowly, silently begging gerry to just touch him, already. "you're too kind, really,"

gerry laughs at that, and he runs his hand over the growing bulge under his tartan skirt before he slips it out through the front of his boxers and lets michael's cock sit against his stomach as hard as can be, flushed pink and pressing the hem of the skirt up filthily. "why, aren't you excited! but no, i mean it. or have you missed the past week and a half?" he props himself up against the wall, michael sitting facing him on his lap, and he runs his thumb over the head.

michael arches up with a shaky sigh of "oh, that's-" and before he can finish, gerry's jacking him off tantalizingly slow. it feels fucking incredible, better than any time michael's quickly finished himself off in the shower before work or right before he goes to sleep, and all he can do is lean forward to bury his head in gerry's chest and let out a high, keening whine. gerry lets him cuddle up, pillows his head on one shoulder as he keeps fucking his fist over michael and starts mumbling in his ear again. 

"you're exactly my type, you know that? slutty blonde prettyboys who dress like you. when i first saw you, i knew. you looked at me and i just knew." michael whimpers, and he twists his hands into gerry's shirt to keep from bucking his hips into the waiting fingers around him. "you're all sorts of desperate, too. do you just sit at your desk and think about me getting you off with my boot on your dick?" there's no reply, but the way he twitches tells gerry everything he needs to know. "cute." his voice softens as he looks down at the man in his lap, and he says earnestly, "you're so gorgeous, michael."

michael shakes his head vehemently and he noses at gerry's neck while he tries to get his words out. "no, i-"

"yes, you are," he interrupts, and he pulls away to look michael in the eyes. his hand doesn't still over michael's cock, and he doesn't miss how much he's squirming now. "don't be modest. i know so many girls who'd give anything to have pretty legs like yours." 

his guess at how that line will go over is confirmed correct as michael's squirming stills and he bites out, "fuck," pushing his face back into gerry's collar as he cries shakily against his chest and he finishes all over the front of his jumper and gerry's hand. he barely lets gerry extricate his hand before they're kissing, and he can feel against his face that michael's cheeks are wet. 

"what a sweet boy you are," he breathes, and michael huddles still closer to him in response. gerry wraps his arms around him automatically and brushes the hair out of his face carefully, looking at michael's teary expression. "are you all right?"

"you called me pretty." michael looks giddy as he whispers it. "you thought i was pretty."

"all right, correction, i think you are pretty. present tense. and yeah, michael, you look like a goddamn angel. what was i supposed to think about you?" michael doesn't reply, just presses further into gerry's chest, clearly begging for more of his touch. gerry makes a small tch noise at the needy little behavior, but says nothing for the time being. "well, um. thank you. for. that."

"for what? you didn't get anything," comes michael's laughing response and as the silence hangs and gerry stays silent, his signature contented sigh falls flat. "or, ah, unless...?"

gerry clears his throat gruffly and turns his head to the other side, his fine curtain of hair flopping over his face, avoiding looking straight at michael. "i, um. well, first of all, i'm trans."

"right." there's another silence, and he says slowly, "and second of all...?"

gerry shifts and finishes quickly, "and, second of all, building on that last point, really, i'm not the largest fan of.. you know. the whole..." he makes a gesture that michael giggles at despite himself and he slaps gerry's hands away. "so. that."

"well, that's all fine, obviously, but, ah... how does that factor into the whole... 'you getting something nice too'... thing?" 

gerry inwardly laughs at the awkward phrasing the man lying on top of him managed to cobble together, but he pushes it away for the moment. "yeah, um, well. some guys like being pretty, some guys like... being helpful." 

michael smiles wickedly at the emission and immediately presses a feather-light kiss right where his voicebox is moving. "and how helpful you are," he croons, and gerry tenses deliciously. "thank you for getting me off, gerry, your hands are so good, you're the only one who's ever made me cum like that before..." he finishes and coughs nervously, and he picks up in his normal voice with, "how was that?" 

gerry is just staring at him again, and michael doesn't miss how his hands are sliding back onto michael's hips and he looks ready to sink into the floor. or how his breathing is twice the speed it was just fifteen seconds ago. "michael."

"gerry."

"i just..." gerry takes a shuddering inhale and as he lets it out. he repositions michael so he's laying on his back, still right on top of gerry. he's just soft enough that it's a pleasant weight for him. "you're something else."

"didn't think i could talk like that too, huh?" michael teases, and gerry nips playfully as the shell of his ear. 

"don't be rude. you still haven't thanked me for the skirt."

"i think letting you project your mommy issues onto me and get cum all over my nice sweater is thanks enough."

"right, that's enough out of you," gerry says drily, and micheal giggles as he and his offending mouth are obscured by gerry gently flipping blonde curls over his face. "what happened to cute, shy little micheal who i was pretty sure was a virgin?" 

"he definitely was a virgin," micheal tightly agrees. gerry absolutely balks.

"fuck off."

"no fucking off to be done, i'm afraid."

gerry sighs in indecipherable but sure emotion and simply says, "well. this has been nice."

micheal nods. "it has."

"and i think i might be feeling a bit like heading home early, dropping some things off at my flat and checking on the cats.. maybe order takeaway..."

micheal chews the inside of his cheek, considering his options. he can either, one, work for five more hours with cum in his pants and then go sit at home for the rest of the night thinking about exactly this moment, or two, go meet his mother figure's he means his boss's cat and have takeaway with the strapping goth who still has micheals cum on his fingers. 

"yeah, you know, i think i'd like that." gerry presses a little peck to the back of his neck and hums contentedly.

"i know, micheal. of course, micheal."

**Author's Note:**

> before u ask yes im a gerard kinnie leaf me alone


End file.
